Chapter 220: Chapter 220 - Beneath the Stone
Khisa left the council chamber with tension still coiled beneath his ribs.
Politics was one thing.
But politics never ended when the doors closed.
He found Azenet near the lower market district, standing beneath a woven canopy, speaking with a group of merchants. Their conversation seemed earnest, not ceremonial.
When she noticed him approaching, she dismissed the merchants gently and walked toward him.
"What are you doing?" Khisa asked.
"Getting to know my people," Azenet replied calmly. "Listening to the concerns they have yet to voice out loud."
Khisa tilted his head slightly.
"And what are they not saying?"
She folded her hands behind her back as they began walking.
"They feel the ground shifting beneath them," she said. "Too much change. Too quickly."
Khisa frowned.
"Change builds strength."
"Yes," Azenet agreed. "But it can also erase."
He slowed.
"Explain."
"The roads. The new districts. Foreign merchants. Military drills. Schools. Workshops. Banking reforms. Freed people integrating." She glanced toward the rising stone structures in the distance. "To you, it is progress. To some of them, it feels like they are being replaced."
Khisa’s expression hardened slightly, not in anger, but in realization.
"They are not opposed to growth," Azenet continued. "With the Navy expanding its influence at sea, a lot of new faces come inland, on top of that new tribes join every other day. They are afraid of becoming strangers in their own home."
The words settled heavily.
Khisa exhaled slowly.
"I expected resistance eventually," he admitted. "But not this early."
"It is not resistance," she said gently. "Not yet. It is uncertainty."
They walked in silence for a moment.
"Many tribes joined Nuri willingly," Azenet continued. "For protection. For stability. But some joined because they had no real choice. Strength can invite loyalty... but it can also breed quiet resentment."
Khisa stopped walking.
He had considered military backlash. Foreign sabotage. Religious tension.
But this?
Internal displacement?
He looked at her with something close to awe.
"You saw all this from a conversation with merchants?"
Azenet smiled faintly.
"They speak more openly when they believe you are listening. Right now, you and King Lusweti have accomplished so much, your leadership has brought them great comfort. They repect you as leaders, but both of you feel almost mystical, they wouldn’t carelessly approach."
Khisa chuckled softly.
"You impress me more each day. I can’t believe I missed all of that."
She studied him for a moment.
" This because you are always looking outward," she said. "Toward the horizon. Toward the next threat."
"That is because I know what waits beyond it," Khisa replied quietly.
She waited.
"The Portuguese are not the only ones," he continued. "We saw how Kongo and Buganda were manipulated. Offers that look generous. Protection that costs independence. They offered your father assistance once. It might have saved lives in the moment... but it would have chained future generations."
His jaw tightened.
"I refuse to let that happen here. I want Nuri strong enough that no empire can brush us aside. I want our voice heard on a stage they believe belongs only to them."
Azenet stepped closer.
"When you speak of that future," she said softly, "your eyes change."
Khisa blinked.
"You carry too much alone," she continued. "You cannot fortify every border, manage every reform, and guard every soul by yourself."
He smiled faintly.
"That is the burden of leadership."
"It is the burden of stubbornness," she corrected gently.
He laughed under his breath.
She took his hands.
"Let me handle the internal matters," she said.
He blinked.
"We are not yet married," he replied. "You don’t owe Nuri anything just yet."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Do you intend to cancel our engagement?"
Khisa’s response was immediate.
"Absolutely not."
"Then these are already my people," she said firmly. "And if they are my people, I will not allow them to feel forgotten."
There was steel beneath her softness now.
Khisa studied her carefully.
"You are serious."
"I am."
He nodded slowly.
"Very well. I trust you."
Silence passed between them, not heavy, but grounded.
After a moment, Khisa spoke again.
"There is something else."
She tilted her head.
"Tadesse told us that the church has demands," he said. "Land. Autonomy. Public rites."
"I assumed as much."
He hesitated briefly before asking,
"Do you wish to have churches built here?"
Azenet exhaled slowly.
"Yes," she admitted. "I would like a place to pray. To hear the Word. To gather with others who share my faith."
She met his eyes.
"But I am not blind to where I stand. I am in Nuri. Not Abyssinia. I cannot expect your people to reshape themselves for my comfort."
Khisa nodded.
"Belief will always differ," he said. "But Nuri does not deny it. Christians, traditionalists, foreigners, if they mean no harm and abide by our laws, they belong."
He smirked slightly.
"Duarte is proof enough of that. Betrayed his own commander. Now he runs drills with our soldiers."
Azenet laughed softly.
"The world truly has changed."
"It must," Khisa replied. "But not at the cost of who we are."
He grew more serious.
"If you wish to build churches, you may. If you wish to preach you may. But there will be no force. No deception. No exemption from law. No special authority."
"I would not want that," she said immediately.
He searched her expression.
"You do not expect me to convert?"
Azenet shook her head.
"I fell in love with you before this conversation ever existed," she said. "I do not require you to become someone else to stand beside me."
For once, Khisa had no immediate response.
The political strategist. The reformer. The war planner.
Silenced.
She squeezed his hands gently.
"Just promise me one thing."
"What is that?"
"When the construction ends. When the borders are secure. When the threats quiet... do not forget the people who built this with you."
He nodded.
"I won’t."
They walked back toward the capital together, the noise of construction echoing around them.
Stone was rising.
But foundations, invisible, fragile, human, would require just as much care.
